the　baking　grass；　his　eyes　closed　dreamily。　　He　was　awakened　by
  the　sound　of　voices。　　They　were　distant；　they　were　vague；　they
  approached　no　nearer。　　He　rolled　himself　to　the　verge　of　the　first
  precipitous　grassy　descent。　　There　was　another　bank　or　plateau
  below　him；　and　then　a　confused　depth　of　olive　shadows；　pierced　here
  and　there　by　the　spiked　helmets　of　pines。
  There　was　no　trace　of　habitation；　yet　the　voices　were　those　of　some
  monotonous　occupation；　and　Lance　distinctly　heard　through　them　the
  click　of　crockery　and　the　ring　of　some　household　utensil。　　It
  appeared　to　be　the　interjectional；　half　listless；　half　perfunctory；
  domestic　dialogue　of　an　old　man　and　a　girl；　of　which　the　words　were
  unintelligible。　　Their　voices　indicated　the　solitude　of　the
  mountain；　but　without　sadness；　they　were　mysterious　without　being
  awe…inspiring。　　They　might　have　uttered　the　dreariest　commonplaces；
  but；　in　their　vast　isolation；　they　seemed　musical　and　eloquent。
  Lance　drew　his　first　sigh；they　had　suggested　dinner。
  Careless　as　his　nature　was；　he　was　too　cautious　to　risk　detection
  in　broad　daylight。　　He　contented　himself　for　the　present　with
  endeavoring　to　locate　that　particular　part　of　the　depths　from　which
  the　voices　seemed　to　rise。　　It　was　more　difficult；　however；　to
  select　some　other　way　of　penetrating　it　than　by　the　stage　road。
  〃They're　bound　to　have　a　fire　or　show　a　light　when　it's　dark；〃　he
  reasoned；　and；　satisfied　with　that　reflection；　lay　down　again。
  Presently　he　began　to　amuse　himself　by　tossing　some　silver　coins　in
  the　air。　　Then　his　attention　was　directed　to　a　spur　of　the　Coast
  Range　which　had　been　sharply　silhouetted　against　the　cloudless
  western　sky。　　Something　intensely　white；　something　so　small　that　it
  was　scarcely　larger　than　the　silver　coin　in　his　hand；　was　appearing
  in　a　slight　cleft　of　the　range。
  While　he　looked　it　gradually　filled　and　obliterated　the　cleft。　　In
  another　moment　the　whole　serrated　line　of　mountain　had　disappeared。
  The　dense；　dazzling　white；　encompassing　host　began　to　pour　over　and
  down　every　ravine　and　pass　of　the　coast。　　Lance　recognized　the　sea…
  fog；　and　knew　that　scarcely　twenty　miles　away　lay　the　oceanand
  safety！　　The　drooping　sun　was　now　caught　and　hidden　in　its　soft
  embraces。　　A　sudden　chill　breathed　over　the　mountain。　　He　shivered；
  rose；　and　plunged　again　for　very　warmth　into　the　spice…laden
  thicket。　　The　heated　balsamic　air　began　to　affect　him　like　a
  powerful　sedative；　his　hunger　was　forgotten　in　the　languor　of
  fatigue；　he　slumbered。　　When　he　awoke　it　was　dark。　　He　groped　his
  way　through　the　thicket。　　A　few　stars　were　shining　directly　above
  him；　but　beyond　and　below；　everything　was　lost　in　the　soft；　white；
  fleecy　veil　of　fog。　　Whatever　light　or　fire　might　have　betokened
  human　habitation　was　hidden。　　To　push　on　blindly　would　be　madness；
  he　could　only　wait　for　morning。　　It　suited　the　outcast's　lazy
  philosophy。　　He　crept　back　again　to　his　bed　in　the　hollow　and
  slept。　　In　that　profound　silence　and　shadow；　shut　out　from　human
  association　and　sympathy　by　the　ghostly　fog；　what　torturing　visions
  conjured　up　by　remorse　and　fear　should　have　pursued　him？　　What
  spirit　passed　before　him；　or　slowly　shaped　itself　out　of　the
  infinite　blackness　of　the　wood？　　None。　　As　he　slipped　gently　into
  that　blackness　he　remembered　with　a　slight　regret；　some　biscuits
  that　were　dropped　from　the　coach　by　a　careless　luncheon…consuming
  passenger。　　That　pang　over；　he　slept　as　sweetly；　as　profoundly；　as
  divinely；　as　a　child。
  CHAPTER　II。
  He　awoke　with　the　aroma　of　the　woods　still　steeping　his　senses。
  His　first　instinct　was　that　of　all　young　animals；　he　seized　a　few
  of　the　young；　tender　green　leaves　of　the　yerba　buena　vine　that
  crept　over　his　mossy　pillow　and　ate　them；　being　rewarded　by　a　half
  berry…like　flavor　that　seemed　to　soothe　the　cravings　of　his
  appetite。　　The　languor　of　sleep　being　still　upon　him；　he　lazily
  watched　the　quivering　of　a　sunbeam　that　was　caught　in　the　canopying
  boughs　above。　　Then　he　dozed　again。　　Hovering　between　sleeping　and
  waking；　he　became　conscious　of　a　slight　movement　among　the　dead
  leaves　on　the　bank　beside　the　hollow　in　which　he　lay。　　The　movement
  appeared　to　be　intelligent；　and　directed　toward　his　revolver；　which
  glittered　on　the　bank。　　Amused　at　this　evident　return　of　his
  larcenous　friend　of　the　previous　day；　he　lay　perfectly　still。　　The
  movement　and　rustle　continued；　but　it　now　seemed　long　and
  undulating。　　Lance's　eyes　suddenly　became　set；　he　was　intensely；
  keenly　awake。　　It　was　not　a　snake；　but　the　hand　of　a　human　arm；
  half　hidden　in　the　moss；　groping　for　the　weapon。　　In　that　flash　of
  perception　he　saw　that　it　was　small；　bare；　and　deeply　freckled。　　In
  an　instant　he　grasped　it　firmly；　and　rose　to　his　feet；　dragging　to
  his　own　level　as　he　did　so；　the　struggling　figure　of　a　young　girl。
  〃Leave　me　go！〃　she　said；　more　ashamed　than　frightened。
  Lance　looked　at　her。　　She　was　scarcely　more　than　fifteen；　slight
  and　lithe；　with　a　boyish　flatness　of　breast　and　back。　　Her　flushed
  face　and　bare　throat　were　absolutely　peppered　with　minute　brown
  freckles；　like　grains　of　spent　gunpowder。　　Her　eyes；　which　were
  large　and　gray；　presented　the　singular　spectacle　of　being　also
  freckled；at　least　they　were　shot　through　in　pupil　and　cornea
  with　tiny　spots　like　powdered　allspice。　　Her　hair　was　even　more
  remarkable　in　its　tawny；　deer…skin　color；　full　of　lighter　shades；
  and　bleached　to　the　faintest　of　blondes　on　the　crown　of　her　head；
  as　if　by　the　action　of　the　sun。　　She　had　evidently　outgrown　her
  dress；　which　was　made　for　a　smaller　child；　and　the　too　brief　skirt
  disclosed　a　bare；　freckled；　and　sandy　desert　of　shapely　limb；　for
  which　the　darned　stockings　were　equally　too　scant。　　Lance　let　his
  grasp　slip　from　her　thin　wrist　to　her　hand；　and　then　with　a　good…
  humored　gesture　tossed　it　lightly　back　to　her。
  She　did　not　retreat；　but　continued　looking　at　him　in　a　half…surly
  embarrassment。
  〃I　ain't　a　bit　frightened；〃　she　said；　〃I'm　not　going　to　run　away；
  don't　you　fear。〃
  〃Glad　to　hear　it；〃　said　Lance；　with　unmistakable　satisfaction；　〃but
  why　did　you　go　for　my　revolver？〃
  She　flushed　again　and　was　silent。　　Presently　she　began　to　kick　the
  earth　at　the　roots　of　the　tree；　and　said；　as　if　confidentially　to
  her　foot；
  〃I　wanted　to　get　hold　of　it　before　you　did。〃
  〃You　did？and　why？〃
  〃Oh；　you　know　why。〃
  Every　tooth　in　Lance's　head　showed　that　he　did；　perfectly。　　But　he
  was　discreetly　silent。
  〃I　didn't　know　what　you　were　hiding　there　for；〃　she　went　on；　still
  addressing　the　tree；　〃and；〃　looking　at　him　sideways　under　her　white
  lashes；　〃I　didn't　see　your　face。〃
  This　subtle　compliment　was　the　first　suggestion　of　her　artful　sex。
  It　actually　sent　the　blood　into　the　careless　rascal's　face；　and　for
  a　moment　confused　him。　　He　coughed。　　〃So　you　thought　you'd　freeze
  on　to　that　six…shooter　of　mine　until　you　saw　my　hand？〃
  She　nodded。　　Then　she　picked　up　a　broken　hazel　branch；　fitted　it
  into　the　small　of　her　back；　threw　her　tanned　bare　arms　over　the
  ends　of　it；　and　expanded　her　chest　and　her　biceps　at　the　same
  moment。　　This　simple　action　was　supposed　to　convey　an　impression　at
  once　of　ease　and　muscular　force。
  〃Perhaps　you'd　like　to　take　it　now；〃　said　Lance；　handing　her　the
  pistol。
  〃I've　seen　six…shooters　before　now；〃　said　the　girl；　evading　the
  proffered　weapon　and　its　suggestion。　　〃Dad　has　one；　and　my　brother
  had　two　derringers　before　he　was　half　as　big　as　me。〃
  She　stopped　to　observe　in　her　companion　the　effect　of　this　capacity
  of　her　family　to　bear　arms。　　Lance　only　regarded　her　amusedly。
  Presently　she　again　spoke　abruptly：
  〃What　made　you　eat　that　grass；　just　now？〃
  〃Grass！〃　echoed　Lance。
  〃Yes；　there；〃　pointing　to　the　yerba　buena。
  Lance　laughed。　　〃I　was　hungry。　　Look！〃　he　said；　gayly　tossing　some
  silver　into　the　air。　　〃Do　you　think　you　could　get　me　some　breakfast
  for　that；　and　have　enough　left　to　buy　something　for　yourself？〃
  The　girl　eyed　the　money　and　the　man　with　half…bashful　curiosity。
  〃I　reckon　Dad　might　give　ye　suthing　if　he　had　a　mind　ter；　though　ez
  a　rule　he's　down　on　tramps　ever　since　they　run　off　his　chickens。
  Ye　might　try。〃
  〃But　I　want　YOU　to　try。　　You　can　bring　it　to　me　here。〃
  The　girl　retreated　a　step；　dropped　her　eyes；　and；　with　a　smile　that
  was　a　charming　hesitation　between　bashfulness　and　impudence；　said：
  〃So　you　ARE　hidin'；　are　ye？〃
  〃That's　just　it。　　Your　head's　level。　　I　am；〃　laughed　Lance
  unconcernedly。
  〃Yur　ain't　one　o'　the　McCarty　gangare　ye？〃
  Mr。　Lance　Harriott　felt　a　momentary　moral　exaltation　in　declaring
  truthfully　that　he　was　not　one　of　a　notorious　band　of　mountain
  freebooters　known　in　the　district　under　that　name。
  〃Nor　ye　ain't　one　of　them　chicken　lifters　that　raided　Henderson's
  ranch？　　We　don't　go　much　on　that　kind　o'　cattle　yer。〃
  〃No；〃　said　Lance；　cheerfully。
  〃Nor　ye　ai